


Hello

by Gemi



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Donatello lives there, I let Raph say fuck, M/M, Raphael is a guard for an exploration team in a wild jungle, Turtlecest (TMNT), cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/pseuds/Gemi
Summary: The air was humid, filled with the sounds of strange birds and rustling vegetation. The air was thick with it all, enough so that Raphael felt like he would choke on it every time he breathed in. The smell was worse; it was why he had begun to breathe through his mouth, instead.Dark eyes stared back at him.





	Hello

The air was humid, filled with the sounds of strange birds and rustling vegetation. The air was _thick_ with it all, enough so that Raphael felt like he would choke on it every time he breathed in. The smell was worse; it was why he had begun to breathe through his mouth, instead.  
  
Dark eyes stared back at him.  
  
They were wide; lined with smears of purple and showing absolutely no fear. That, most of all, was what unnerved him. Not the fact that a turtle was crouching above him, when he had been told there were no people in the area except for the archaeologists whom he was meant to protect from the wild. Not the fact that the turtle was resting the tip of a spear against Raphael’s neck, the cold, strangely colored metal of it biting against his skin without breaking it.  
  
None of that unnerved him. Not as much as the lack of fear in those wide, dark eyes.  
  
Because Raphael wore clothes where the other turtle didn’t; he had a gun with two bullets in his belt, a nasty knife and help only a shout away. And yet there was no fear.  
  
The turtle spoke.  
  
Their voice was soft and questioning, and oddly excited. It reminded him of Mikey, whenever his brother got his hand on new spices or exotic fruits from the market. Excitement about discovering something new. Of course, Mikey’s voice was _never_ soft and rarely questioning. Raphael wasn’t sure _why_ this turtle’s voice reminded him of his dumb-ass brother, safe at home days and miles away by sea.  
  
Most importantly, the turtle didn’t speak English.  
  
The spear was eased away from his throat. It rested against his shoulder, a reminder that the threat was still there. Softer, now, but still present. The turtle looked at him, waiting for something. Raphael stared back for a long moment; his muscles ached with how tense he was, how still he had kept himself.  
  
The turtle continued to stare.  
  
Raph cleared his throat, licked his lips.  
  
“What the _fuck_ ,” he said, and immediately regretted it. But the strange turtle looked _delighted_ , smiling widely and leaning closer. They had freckles, he realized, distantly. He hadn’t seen that before, but the turtle was now so _close_ that if Raphael dared to move, he could easily touch them.  
  
Said turtle made an encouraging sound. The fucker wanted him to talk, it seemed, which made no sense. It wasn’t like they could _understand_ each other, and Raph was still a shout away from calling for help.  
  
But the turtle hadn’t hurt him yet, and seemed too delighted and curious to be an actual threat, spear or no spear. And the archaeologists _did_ say they were there to find some big, lost city. The help of a native might be what they needed, to actually find the damn thing.  
  
Raphael met the turtle’s eyes, and spoke.  
  
They spent a too long moment like that; the spear resting comfortably against his shoulder as he spoke, as he asked questions and complained and cursed, the turtle humming in encouragement, nodding in approval, smile wide and eyes warm.  
  
“Why are you _naked?_ ” Raph asked at one point, and all he had received was a curious tilt of the head, a blink and a small nudge with the spear to keep going. And so Raphael did.  
  
For whatever reason, he didn’t tell the team about the turtle. It felt _wrong_ , the idea of telling. And he doubted anyone would believe him- the land _was_ meant to be empty of natives, was meant to only house a too humid, smelly jungle and crumbling ruins of some old city that no one had ever actually found.  
  
A turtle with a sweet smile and curious eyes was _not_ part of the plan.

  
  


The turtle kept returning; kept tracking them down as they wandered through the jungle, always waiting until Raphael was alone. The spear stopped poking him. Instead the turtle began to poke him by themselves, and Raph felt safe in assuming that the turtle was a male, just like him. They _smelled_ like a male, and Raphael tried not to think too much about how he knew that.  
  
  
  


Weeks passed; the archaeologist got nowhere closer to finding more than pieces of broken pots and old cave paintings and the occasional gold jewelry, and Raphael had begun to run out of things to say. The turtle had begun to sit next to him now, shoulder pressed against his, curious, nimble fingers exploring Raph’s sleeves, his hands, tracing the old knicks and scars from the past.  
  
“Don’t get why you like listening to me,” he muttered, watching as the turtle took his hand and turned it, pressing their thumb against the lines in his palm. “Gotta be boring as fuck, you can’t understand me, I can’t understand you. Don’t even know your _name_.”  
  
“Donatello.”  
  
“Yeah, whate-” he stopped. Blinked, and turned his head to stare at the turtle. The turtle, who grinned back, eyes sparkling. “What,” Raph said.  
  
“My name is Donatello,” the turtle said.  
  
There was an accent to how he spoke; the N’s were dragged out, the T’s too sharp and the M more of an afterthought. But it was _English_ , actual _English_ , and Raphael gaped until he remembered how the jungle swarmed with bugs, and promptly snapped his mouth closed again.  
  
“What the _fuck_ ,” he hissed, twisting so he could fully face the turtle, face _Donatello_ , who was still holding his hand and beaming that dumb, cute smile, “ _How_ the fuck? Did you know how to speak all this time?”  
  
“No,” Donatello said, huffing a laugh, and then a hand rested against Raph’s cheek. He froze up again, hands half raised where he had prepared to grab the other turtle to shake him, “I listened to you speak. Now I know. Now _I_ speak. I am Donatello. You?”  
  
“That ain’t possible,” he protested, and he had no fucking idea what to do. One hand holding his, one hand against his cheek, and Donatello was close enough that Raph could see how his eyes wrinkled by the corners when he grinned. He should move.  
  
He didn’t _want_ to move.  
  
“You can’t just- just _learn_ a language in just a few weeks,” he said, “Definitely not from listening to me, what the _fuck_?”  
  
“Yes I can,” Donatello replied, and then tilted his head. “Your name?”  
  
He stared.  
  
His mouth felt dry. His tongue felt too big and clumsy in his mouth, and he had to clear his throat.  
  
“Raphael,” he said.  
  
Donatello’s grin softened into a smile.  
  
“Raphael,” he repeated, and leaned close enough to press his brow against Raph’s. The contact was startling, and Raph twitched before he leaned into it despite knowing better. “Hello.”  
  
He left out a shuddering sigh. Then, Raph raised his free hand to press it against Donatello’s cheek, mirroring the other turtle. He could feel the purple paint flake under his touch. Could feel Donatello lean into it.  
  
“Hello,” he whispered back.  
  
Donatello _beamed_ a smile, bright enough that Raph didn’t have to see it to know it was there. And then Donatello pressed closer, lips against his, and Raph squeezed the hand holding his.  
  
He kissed back.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be an El Dorado AU, but I hope hints of it still shine through <3


End file.
